


Dreams Louder Than Words

by Airasyraye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Hotel Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Top Dean Winchester, Top Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airasyraye/pseuds/Airasyraye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started in probably the most cliché way possible--Sam accidentally listening in on Dean’s dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It all started in probably the most cliché way possible--Sam accidentally listening in on Dean’s dreams. It was hard not to when they shared a motel room like they did. Even in a double bed on the other side of the nightstand, Sam could hear Dean when he dreamed, which was not often. Dean was a very still and quiet sleeper, but also a very light sleeper, honed from years of being a hunter. So when he did get noisy at night, the dreams were intense, and usually bad.

It killed Sam to think of his brother having been in Hell. Dean hadn’t deserved that and certainly not for the reason he went. It haunted Dean far more than he let on; except for the one breakdown he’d had where he’d confessed to Sam everything that had happened to him, he was silent on the matter. Even now, when Sam thought about it, tears prickled at his eyelids. His big brother was a saint in his heart and to think about what he had suffered and what he had finally started doing just to relieve the physical agony only to suffer agony in his soul for his ‘weakness’ broke Sam’s heart to think about. So he usually didn’t.

Except on those nights when Dean was caught by nightmares and woke Sam whimpering and crying and pleading for mercy from the shadow of a demon who didn’t even exist anymore. On those nights, without hesitation, Sam slipped from his bed and crawled into Dean’s, above the covers, pulling his brother into his arms. Dean would resist, even try to fight in his sleep, but Sam would hold him and stroke his back and whisper in his ear that he was safe, that Castiel had pulled him from Hell and he was back with Sam, back to whatever passed for normal in their lives. Dean never woke up, somehow, but Sam’s words still seemed to reach him, because he would quiet down and relax and press into Sam’s hold and drift away into more pleasant dreams. And Sam would hold him until he was sure Dean’s psyche had finally had pity on him before he’d carefully detangle himself and return to his own bed where he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering how could the God he had believed so wholeheartedly in allow such a thing to happen to The Righteous Man as Castiel was so eager to insist Dean was. 

So that was how it was when Dean’s nighttime noises dragged Sam out of sleep. A brief glance at the alarm clock showed it was just past midnight, and the room was dark except for a faint yellow glow from the sodium lamps in the parking lot out front. 

When Dean dreamed, it wasn’t always bad. Sometimes he murmured in his sleep that, while often too garbled for Sam to understand, sounded almost happy. A couple of times, Sam had even been able to see a little smile on his brother’s face as he shifted under his covers, body reacting to whatever his mind was conjuring up. On those nights Sam would immediately relax, smile in return to Dean seemingly enjoying whatever he was dreaming about, and then roll over and go back to sleep himself. 

This night, however, Dean seemed to be a little clearer because as Sam was about to roll over, he was sure he heard Dean say his name. Turning back, he looked into Dean’s face but was sure Dean was still fully asleep.

Curious, Sam slid back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, watching. “Dean?”

Dean’s head turned toward him, but it seemed to be subconscious because his eyes were still closed. There was enough light coming in through the window at Sam’s back to tell there was no telltale reflection. 

“Sammy…” Dean sighed. He shifted around again and then kicked at his bedclothes like a child, knocking them all off onto the floor. Sam started to get up to retrieve them, thinking the room was a little chilly for Dean to be sleeping in only his T-shirt and boxers without something better covering him up, when Dean flopped fully over onto his back and lay splay-legged on the mattress. “Sammy… Love you, Sammy.”

Sam paused like a spotlight had suddenly lit him up. He turned back to the bed, studying Dean’s face. His brother looked absolutely peaceful in his sleep, all his worries that were starting to grind him down erased. He looked as fresh-faced and full of cheer as he had when he’d first broken into Sam’s apartment at Stanford. 

The words had a profound impact on Sam. They were a strange family, he knew that. On the one hand, they were close enough and comfortable enough to have no qualms embracing the other brother in times of emotion, but had they ever said the words? 

Sam smiled at his sleeping brother, but his eyes were drawn by movement. Dean had shifted around and Sam swallowed hard, his eyes growing round in the dark, when he saw that Dean had stuffed his hand down his boxers. 

There was no way he was touching himself while dreaming of Sam. No fucking way.

And yet that appeared to be exactly what was happening. As he stared, Dean’s hand began to move slowly under the edge of his boxers, the movement unmistakable for what it was, as Dean squirmed and breathed. Sam felt his cheeks burning, watching as the fingers of Dean’s other hand curled in the bottom sheet beneath him. And as if to make it absolutely clear who Dean was dreaming about, his name was again whispered into the dark of the hotel room.

For a moment, Sam tried to make himself believe it was a girl who shared the name. Surely Dean was saying “Sami” or some other feminine version and was dreaming of some pretty girl he picked up in a bar at some point when he and his brother weren’t together, which was admittedly very rare. 

Fate wasn’t having him trying to dodge out of this. Even as he had half-convinced himself it was a girl with his name, Dean muttered, “Sam…Fuck, Sam…feels good…you feel so good. Wanted this so long…”

Well, that shot that theory in the head. Dean couldn’t have exactly been longing for any woman for any length of time the way they lived their lives. Love ‘em and leave ‘em had been, even by necessity, Dean’s method for years. He was caring, he made sure the girls had a great time (Sam had accidentally walked in on him and a girl or gotten a very uncomfortable morning-after talk with the girl in question too often not to know *that* facet of his brother he could have lived without), but there was no room in a hunter’s life for a significant other. Those who tried inevitably failed in one way or another to everyone’s sorrow. Just look at Ellen and her husband or Dean and his first love, Cassie Robinson. 

Or Sam and Jessica.

Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts that were spinning wildly out of control in response to this unexpected turn of events. He let the bedclothes tumble from his numb fingers and stepped to the very foot of the bed. Dean was moving a little more quickly now, his hand invisible up to the wrist, but clearly stroking his cock. Even as Sam watched, Dean’s face screwed up with pleasure and his hips began to rock against his hand.

Sam’s mouth was suddenly dry. He shouldn’t be watching this. Dean was vulnerable like this, asleep, not knowing he was being watched. Sam should really just try to go back to sleep--fat chance--or get dressed and skedaddle for an hour. 

But Sam stayed put for two reasons. The first was that he didn’t want Dean to wake and find Sam missing. It would send Dean into a panic and he couldn’t do that to him. He sent Dean into panic mode far too often lately. The second reason, of course, was because he wanted to watch. He felt shameful for it, Dean being oblivious as he was, but he couldn’t help himself.

How long had his subconscious wanted this? How long had it taken for him to start thinking of Dean as a little more than just the big brother who always protected him? As children, he really had only ever thought of Dean as a brother. Through high school, leaving for Stanford, even when Dean came back into his life, Sam was pretty sure he’d never considered him this way. But there had to have been something there, beneath the surface, that had been growing like a seed the past few years.

Sam bit his lip and shifted as he felt his own boxers starting to become a little too tight. The fact that Dean was beginning to pant was definitely not helping matters. He was getting into it, clearly having a very intense wet dream if it affected his physical body this much, but even as Sam was thinking he probably should force himself to at least retreat into the bathroom, Dean made an annoyed little noise. 

“Sammy…please, Sammy, I can’t…”

Oh, fuck. Sam closed his eyes tightly and tried to control his own breathing. It appeared that Dean’s brain was too much asleep to really do…that…properly while his body was awake enough to make him feel frustrated.

Sam’s hand seemed to move of its own accord down to press the heel of it against his own growing erection. The pressure made him groan softly. His eyes shot open as Dean echoed the noise.

Nope, still asleep. When had Dean ever slept this deeply? He clearly didn’t want let this dream go. 

Sam hesitated, then slowly climbed up onto the bed. The shifting under his weight made Dean stir slightly, but that was it. As Sam settled, so did Dean. Sam moved again until he was straddling Dean’s lower legs. Mouth still dry, Sam reached out and lightly wrapped his fingers around Dean’s wrist and slowly pulled, increasing the pressure until Dean suddenly jerked his arm, making Sam jump. But the arm flopped against Dean’s chest and fingers bunched his shirt. 

“Sam…”

The real Sam shivered and closed his eyes, struggling to regain his self-restraint. When he opened them again, he hooked his fingers into Dean’s boxers and slowly tugged them down. A small moan of lust worked its way from his throat at Dean’s cock popped free, thick and hard as a rock, the tip shiny in the faint light. Sam lowered the boxers only enough to get to what he wanted, considering Dean was still laying on them. Licking his lips, he glanced up at his brother’s face. Still asleep. 

Sam looked back down. Damn, no wonder Dean was such a hit with the ladies. His face and charm got him into the bedroom, his body made damn sure he wasn’t kicked out.

Sam was crossing a line here and he knew it. Dean was asleep, insensible. But Sam couldn’t help himself. He never would have thought this would ever happen, and now that it was, he didn’t want to chicken out. He wasn’t that good of a person.

He leaned forward and tentatively licked the tip. Instantly his mouth was flooded with the musky, slightly salty taste, nothing he had ever tasted before, and not unpleasant. He looked up at Dean, who had stilled enough that he wondered if he was fully out again. He then went back down and experimentally took the head in his mouth. 

“Sam…Sammy…”

Dean’s hips shifted weakly and Sam was just able to stop himself from groaning. Dean’s slumbering movements were somehow erotic. He wasn’t sure he could stop now if he tried.

Taking the base in his hand, he slowly slid down until he couldn’t take anymore, his hand having to take care of the rest. Moving at a snail’s pace, he bobbed his head, his hand absentmindedly moving in an opposing rhythm. Dean began to sigh and moan in his sleep and Sam nearly jumped out of his skin again when a hand curled in his hair. He looked up once more, barely able to see anything of Dean’s face at this angle, but as Dean was not looking down, he assumed he was still asleep.

His heart was knocking in his ribs and sweat began to break out on his skin despite the coolness of the room. He was taking a huge risk here and it simultaneously frightened and thrilled him. 

Flattening his tongue against the turgid flesh in his mouth, he stroked firmly up and down. A louder groan rumbled from Dean’s throat and Sam’s other hand moved of its own accord down between his legs, his weight shifting awkwardly onto his elbow. He rubbed himself through his boxers, needing some relief of the tension mounting there as he sucked his unconscious brother off. 

“Sammy…feels good…”

Sam shivered and lifted his head, freeing his mouth. He was pretty sure Dean wasn’t as asleep as he’d been a minute ago, but he wasn’t going to stop now. 

“Dean…” he responded, matching his brother’s husky, but quiet tone. He licked his lips, then bent down to drag his tongue along Dean’s belly. His right hand kept up the languid pace on Dean’s cock while his left kneaded his own balls. 

“Sam?”

Definitely more awake now. It was a sleepy question and when Sam looked up, Dean’s brow was furrowed though his eyes were still closed.

“Still here, Dean,” Sam murmured quietly. “I’ve got you.” Then, though it made him blush in the dark, he added, “Gonna make you feel good.”

A little groan was the reply to that and Sam smiled. He bent back down and wrapped his lips around the head, flicking his tongue into the slit. He knew firsthand just how great that felt. 

Dean was no different. His body jerked under Sam and he came more than half awake. The hand in Sam’s hair tightened and Dean lifted his head, looking down his body at Sam with half-open eyes. Sam met his gaze, seeing the hazy look, knowing that Dean hadn’t come fully aware enough to be sure this wasn’t a dream. Could Sam play the ‘this is all just a dream’ trope and have Dean buy it?

He didn’t want to try. This was real. He wanted this, Dean’s dream-talking had revealed the fact that he wanted it, and Sam wasn’t willing to let it go. Whatever came with the morning light, he was going to have this now.

One last long, slow lick that made Dean gasp and roll his head back, Sam popped off again to breathe and swallow. “Dean. You’re not dreaming anymore.”

Up came his brother’s head, a clearer gaze focusing on him. Nothing was said and Sam held his gaze, though he felt like fleeing, while he bent down and licked and nibbled at Dean’s hip. The older Winchester shifted, then his hand tightened even more in Sam’s hair. Sam didn’t protest, but he moved his fist faster, causing Dean to moan despite his expressionless mask. 

“Sammy…” Hesitant, uncertain. Dean must still think he was still dreaming. He was still slightly glassy-eyed, woken out of a deeper-than-usual sleep and disoriented.

“I’m here,” Sam repeated. He began to stroke faster, feeling the flesh growing even harder as it swelled. Sam stopped touching himself and reached up, grabbing Dean’s hand and trying to tug it out of his hair, wincing with Dean automatically gripped even tighter, several hairs parting company with his scalp. He stilled all movement. “Let go, Dean.”

“I don’t…” Dazed, Dean looked around the hotel room groggily before his attention was yanked back by Sam beginning to move his right hand again. “Ahh, fuck!”

Deciding he wasn’t going to be able to release Dean’s grip without yanking out a chunk of hair, Sam now pulled Dean’s hand down while he bent down again, and swallowed Dean as deep as he could manage. Another curse rang through the room and Dean’s hips surged powerfully, making Sam very glad he had his right hand as a buffer. Dean was on the brink and Sam happily pushed him over by digging his tongue into the sensitive spot beneath the head before swirling his tongue and sucking. Dean’s voice echoed off the walls as he came. Sam had tilted his head at the perfect angle so Dean didn’t shoot right down his throat and he was able to swallow. 

Dean collapsed in a boneless heap, his fingers sliding from Sam’s hair, thudding into the mattress. Sam sat up, licking his lips and wiping his mouth, watching. Dean was breathing heavily, eyes half-closed again. Sam waited for him to drift away again and when that happened, he’d go into the bathroom and take care of himself before trying to get some more sleep before Dean woke up for real and he’d have to explain himself. 

Fate was never that kind. Dean’s eyes opened again as he came down from his orgasm, and he sat up on one hand, staring at Sam in silence. Sam felt nervousness travel down his spine, but he held Dean’s gaze. He owed him not to run out without an explanation.

“Dean--”

“What was that, Sammy?”

There was just the slightest hint of relief in Sam at the continued use of the nickname. But just the slightest hint. “I heard you. Dreaming. About me.”

Dean’s face whitened. He shifted and looked away, then suddenly scrambled off the bed, yanking his boxers up as he did so, face now bright red. “Come on…you’re joking, right, I never--”

“Dean.”

The simple use of his name silenced Dean more effectively than a shout. Realizing that Dean was just as nervous, just as afraid of his brother’s reaction as he himself was, Sam stood. Dean was standing with his back to him, every line of him tense, but he wasn’t running off. Sam circled him, then reached forward and cupped his face. They stared at each for a long time, then Sam leaned forward slowly. Dean stared at him with wide eyes, slightly parted lips, and he looked terrified and hypnotized. He jerked his head slightly, but Sam held on. One kiss, or he was always going to wonder ‘what if’.

The first touch of their lips made him shiver. He closed his eyes, just pressing his lips to Dean’s, nothing else, not moving, waiting to see if Dean would try to pull away again. If he did, he’d let him go, and pretend this never happened. 

A quiet noise from Dean went straight to his own aching cock. Immediately Sam deepened the kiss, sliding his hand from cheek to the back of Dean’s head and holding him in place, opening his mouth, sliding his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip and nipping it. Dean made another noise, a full on groan, and Sam echoed it, pressing harder, insistently, against his brother. He wrapped his free arm around his waist and pulled him up against him. Dean gasped and broke the kiss, looking up at him. Sam kept his hold on him, looking back down at him, waiting for his reaction. After a moment, Dean’s eyes drifted down to Sam’s lips and one hand skimmed up his chest over his shirt.

“This is crazy,” Dean murmured, then caught Sam’s mouth in another kiss. It was Sam’s turn to moan as Dean dominated this kiss, his tongue doing wicked things to Sam’s. 

Sam had a million questions, but he knew Dean and he knew he’d only shut him down. Instead, he pushed against Dean, walking him back until he bumped into the wall beside the bathroom door. He crowded him, pushing him into the garish wallpaper, pressing his hips against Dean’s abdomen, trying to get some relief to the pressure. 

“Fuck, Sammy, you’re a fucking steel pipe right now.” 

Sam grunted a laugh, kissing Dean again. “Then help me do something about it.”

Dean said nothing, just kissing him back. Annoyed, needing some relief, Sam reached down and forced Dean’s hand between his legs, nipping sharply at his lip. Dean groaned and didn’t shy away, his hand cupping Sam firmly and lightly squeezing. Sam whimpered and pushed his hips forward again. He rubbed himself rather shamelessly against Dean’s hand, breaking the kiss to rest his jaw against the edge of Dean’s head and concentrate on breathing. 

“You like that, Sammy?” Dean asked around his collarbone. 

Oh, fuck, he was going to talk dirty. Sam groaned and closed his eyes, shivering and clutching Dean more tightly. 

“Sounds like it,” Dean mused, before apparently deciding he was going to leave one hell of a hickey on Sam’s clavicle. 

For a few minutes, Sam indulged in the bliss of Dean’s hand caressing him through his underwear while his lips and teeth worried a bruise into his skin, but soon it wasn’t enough. He pushed Dean’s hand off and grabbed the hem of his shirt, roughing yanking it up and forcing Dean to raise his arms, catching the neckline against his chin.

“Damn!” Dean complained.

Sam ignored him, knowing Dean liked a little rough handling. There’d been a time or two when Dean had been too drunk to remember Sam was in the hotel room when he brought his equally drunk girl du jour back and immediately got frisky. The girls would often slam Dean against the wall or down on the bed even before Sam had a chance to let them know he was there, and it was clear Dean was loving it. Now Sam was taking those unfortunate lessons and turning them into a good memory. 

Off came his own shirt and Dean’s eyes dropped down to his chest. A hand reached out and skimmed over him.

“Damn, Sam. You always did keep yourself hot as hell.”

Pleased, proud but still blushing, Sam caught Dean’s chin and titled his head up for another kiss, dropping his hands down to Dean’s waist. He skimmed his hands around the waistband of his boxers and swallowed Dean’s little moan. Finally he hooked his fingers into the material and pushed them down, letting gravity finish the job. He stepped back and looked Dean over without allowing his nervousness to overcome him. Dean, ever cocky, stood and let him look, shameless and grinning. 

“Nothing you haven’t already seen before,” Dean said wryly. Then he reached out and grabbed for the waistband of Sam’s boxers. “Now let me even the score.”

Sam let Dean push his boxers down, getting some relief as his erection came free. Sam stood awkwardly and watched as Dean took his time to look him over in return, watching as Dean slowly licked his lips. 

“Damn. Holy fuck, Sammy, there isn’t any of you that’s small, is there?”

Sam blushed even more, but preened under the compliment. Dean reached out and stroked his cheek, grinning at the redness. 

“Come on, Sam, not like you haven’t rolled around in the hay before!”

Sam growled and pushed Dean back against the wall, claiming his mouth. Dean moaned and wrapped one arm around his neck, the other hand gripping his bicep. Sam held Dean’s hips still in both hands, rutting against him, needing some friction yesterday. Dean nipped at his lip as Sam dug his cock into his abs, crushing Dean to him needfully. Precum smeared Dean’s skin, making the slide a little easier and Sam groaned. 

“That all you want?” Dean asked muffedly against his mouth, sounding breathless and amused. 

Sam pulled back enough to look into his brother’s face, wondering just exactly what Dean was implying. The thoughts running through his head, of hauling Dean into the air and making him scream, had him sweating. Feeling like this was the craziest, best dream he’d ever had, Sam released Dean to turn and grab his duffel, pawing through it until he located the small bottle hidden from prying brothers. Dean grinned when he saw it, in that special way he had where his tongue was partly between his teeth, looking so happy and young again and worry-free that Sam’s heart clenched in his chest even as he gave Dean a bitchface for the words he wasn’t saying. 

Sam was a grown man, too. He might not tomcat his way up and down the country, might want more than a casual fuck in a dingy motel room, but he got overwhelmed by hormones and turned on, too.

“Haha, knew you weren’t a complete celibate there, Prudence,” Dean said.

“Like my tongue in your mouth for the last ten minutes didn’t give you a clue?” Sam demanded, returning to crowding Dean against the wall. 

He was pleased to see what his aggressiveness got him. Dean’s eyes were dark and he seemed to lose track of his snark. His hands brushed against Sam’s chest and shoulders before he shook himself and reached for the bottle.

“Yeah, yeah, give it here.”

Sam pulled it out of reach and stared at Dean intently. Dean looked back up at him, looking genuinely surprised.

“What, me?”

Aggression was clearly the way to go. Sam leaned down and bit at the shell of Dean’s ear. “Want to hold you against that wall and fuck you senseless,” he made himself say.

Dean moaned, shuddering and gasping, then nodded dazedly. “O-Okay, Sammy.”

Pleased with the sudden surrender, Sam moaned in echo and captured Dean’s mouth again. He popped open the top of the bottle and poured some lubricant onto his fingers, getting them well slicked up before he dropped the bottle and reached with his dry hand to tug Dean’s thigh until he widened his stance. He could feel Dean’s nervousness in his kiss, but his brother wasn’t backing off, wasn’t going to say no. Sam knew Dean would give him whatever he wanted. 

The first touch of a slick finger in his crack made Dean jump, but he only kissed Sam harder, as if determined to show he was brave enough for this. Sam licked at his lip soothingly and tugged it with his teeth, his questing finger finally finding the rim. He rubbed it lightly, getting Dean used to the sensation, briefly wondering what it felt like. Before tonight, he’d never even considered it. 

“Okay?” Sam asked against Dean’s mouth.

“Feels weird,” Dean muttered. He shifted, widening his stance even more, but that lowered his body, making it more of a strain on Sam’s back. Grunting, Sam shoved his arm in between Dean’s legs, hooking his forearm under Dean’s left leg and hauling it up, pressing it against his side while his slick fingers went back to his ass. Dean gasped at the rough movement, standing on his right leg now, and grabbed onto Sam’s shoulders for balance. He glared at him without heat while Sam stared back at him, watching the emotions flitting across his expressive face. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, shuddering as Sam explored. 

The first fingertip sunk in up to the first knuckle. Dean grunted, but sounded more surprised than anything. Sam kissed his forehead, then went back to his ear, thinking Dean rather liked attention there. 

“I’m not gonna break,” Dean said, shifting against him. 

Sam carefully pushed, sliding his index further and further, amazed at how tight and how hot Dean was there. Dean still had his eyes closed, but his face was pinched with concentration. Sam nibbled at his jaw, nosing under his chin, and sucked at his pulse point. Dean moaned, the sound vibrating against Sam’s lips, and his clenching muscles relaxed. 

Sam didn’t ask Dean if he was okay again. Dean liked being coddled even less than Sam did. So he just eased his finger back out, then shoved it forward again, starting a gentle rhythm, listening to Dean’s harsh breathing. After a moment, the second finger made Dean hiss and shift. Sam soothed him with nips to that sensitive spot on his neck, moving his free hand from Dean’s hip down below his abdomen. He was unsurprised to feel Dean was only half-hard having just come not twenty minutes ago. Keeping the touch light, he teased Dean’s cock, licked and bit at his neck, distracting him from the stretch. 

“That…feels kinda good,” Dean murmured against his ear. 

Thrilled, Sam continued to carefully and slowly stretch him with just two fingers, ignoring his own aching cock for now, intent on making this good for Dean. He crooked his fingers and felt around, knowing that if he moved his fingers just right…

“Oh, fuck!” Dean gasped, voice higher-pitched in surprise. His hands clenched on Sam’s shoulders and he writhed like he was trying to climb Sam like a flagpole. “Fuck, Sammy, fuck, do that again!”

Sam grinned wickedly and obliged, gently rubbing his fingers over the firm nub, removing his hand from Dean’s cock and wrapping his arm around his waist to try and hold him still because Dean was almost thrashing now. His hands had let go of Sam’s shoulders and he had his arms locked around his neck, his face buried in the juncture of neck and shoulder, steadily gasping and groaning as Sam moved his fingers. 

A grunt issued from his throat as Sam added the third finger, pushing it in carefully past the initial resistance, stretching him further. Dean’s back curved inward and he tossed his head back. Sam watched his face, seeing a mix of pain and pleasure. He peppered kisses along the jut of Dean’s jaw, giving him a moment to relax, then twitching his fingers experimentally. Dean moaned again and let his head thunk back against the wall. Sam held him steady, scissoring his fingers and intently watching Dean’s face for any sign it was too much. Instead, Dean seemed to be getting into it, his hips rocking against Sam’s fingers. 

Sam was aching now, but he wasn’t going to even think about himself until he had Dean’s full consent. Thankfully, it didn’t take much longer before his brother opened his eyes and look at him a little wildly.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road!”

Sam groaned and kissed him, removing his fingers and swallowing the whimper. He lowered Dean’s leg, intending to bend down to pick up the lubricant to slick himself when Dean suddenly pushed him back and dropped to his knees. Sam could only stare in heated lust as Dean picked up the bottle, poured some into his left hand, but then looked up at him with a wicked grin. Kiss bruised lips parted for a pink tongue to flick out against his tip. He sucked in a breath and nearly lost his footing as the electric shock slammed up his spine, his neglected erection sensitive. 

“Dean!”

“Mmm…” Dean shifted on his knees and pulled the head of Sam’s cock between his lips. 

“Oh, fuck,” Sam gasped, his hands immediately going to short, spiky hair. 

Dean didn’t exactly go porn star. This was new territory for both of them and Sam was a big boy through and through, but none of that really mattered to Sam at that moment as Dean’s tongue teased and prodded, sending tingles racing all along his body. He clutched at Dean’s head, struggling not to move too forcefully, his eyes closed tightly on instinct though he wanted to watch. Slick fingers wrapping around the base only made it that much harder to hold himself back. Lust and lack of stimulation and the fact that this was reality was making short work of Sam and he was afraid he was about to end the evening early and couldn’t bring himself to make Dean stop. 

That took care of itself when Dean’s mouth and hand crossed territory and his older brother sat back on his haunches, sputtering. Sam looked down to see Dean swiping at his tongue with his dry hand. “Next time, flavored lube,” was all he said.

Dean’s revolted expression made Sam laugh and he pulled him up, the break allowing him to take a step back from the edge. He kissed Dean deeply, nose wrinkling into the kiss when he got a taste of what Dean meant, but not stopping for a second as he pushed him back to the wall again. He reached down, hiking up Dean’s leg again, his other hand grabbing his wrist and pinning it up next to his head. Dean moaned in approval, his slicked hand going back to Sam’s erection and shifting, angling him in between his legs. They both groaned as the head of Sam’s cock nudged Dean’s entrance and Sam broke the kiss to rest his cheek against the side of Dean’s head. Dean pushed the tip in and sucked in a breath. His hand let go and grabbed for the small of Sam’s back and he started to push. Sam held still, letting Dean control the entrance, though the tight heat was making his eyes roll back into his head. 

“Ung, fuck,” Dean rasped, stilling. 

Sam kissed the side of his head, rubbing his hand up his ribs in a soothing manner. Dean grunted and shifted, tilting his pelvis and pulling Sam again. Suddenly the resistance gave way and Sam slid more than halfway in. They both muttered more curses and Sam nosed Dean until he turned his head and he took his mouth in a searing kiss, not interested in trying to bottom out this first time. Instead, he began to gently rock his hips, testing Dean, who moaned into his mouth. 

“Dean?” 

No response but another guttural moan. Dean’s hand at his back dug in and Sam gave into his instincts, beginning to actually thrust. Immediately the tight clenching heat had him gasping, driving him to move faster, egged on by Dean’s enthusiastic moans. The angle was awkward as hell, but Sam liked having Dean at his mercy, one leg hiked to his hip, one arm pinned to the wall, off-balance and making delicious noises inches from Sam’s ear. 

“Ohh, fuck, Sammy…harder, Sam, go faster!”

Sam groaned and shuddered, shifting his footing and following Dean’s commands. His brother cried out, the hand at the small of his back sliding up to grip firmly into the center of his shoulder blades, pulling Sam against him. Sam backed them up a couple of inches, then experimentally slammed Dean against the wall and sure enough he approved, fighting to move the trapped arm, blunt nails leaving pinpricks of pain in Sam’s back. 

“Oh, God, Sam, feels good. Feels so good…” 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, trying to keep his mounting pleasure down just enough to get Dean to the edge again. Opening his eyes again, he kissed Dean’s temple, then looked down between their bodies. Pressed so tight to him, Dean’s full erection was rubbing consistently against his abdomen, already leaking and flushed. 

Reluctantly, Sam released Dean’s trapped arm to reached down and grab his other thigh, hauling him up and holding him to the wall. He saw Dean look down at his dangling feet. 

“Feel like a friggin’ girl,” Dean grunted, even as he wrapped both arms around Sam’s neck and held on. 

Sam laughed breathlessly, then kissed Dean hard to smother his annoyed response, getting his tongue between his teeth and effectively silencing him. The new position allowed him to tilt Dean a little more and his reward was Dean literally shouting into his mouth as he found that perfect angle. 

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck!” Dean chanted. Sam wondered if the running commentary was common or just for him. “Oh, fuck, Sammy, I’m gonna come!”

Sam groaned through his teeth, a dizzying wave of lust lancing up his spine. He gave up all semblance of trying to be gentle and rammed his brother into the wall, earning a rather high-pitched cry he promised himself he wouldn’t tease Dean over later. He could feel all of Dean’s muscles tightening, feel how his skin was so hot and slick with sweat, feel his moans vibrating with their chests pressed together. He crushed Dean up against the wall, driving them toward the finish with shorter, sharper thrusts of his hips, deeper than he’d been so far and Dean was turning the air blue by now. 

Dean shoved his hand down between their stomachs and gripped himself. Sam had gotten him so close that it took maybe three or four strokes before he was shuddering through his second orgasm of the night. Sam caught his mouth with his at the perfect moment, swallowing Dean’s cries of ecstasy.

“Mmm! Mmm! MMMM!” was about what Dean had to say. 

Sam managed a few more ragged thrusts, enough to make Dean whimper, before he was falling over the edge himself, hips stuttering without rhythm as pulses slammed up his spine. He let go of Dean’s legs to slam his hands against the wall, bracing as his knees went weak. Dean’s feet thudded to the carpet and if they hadn’t been so tightly pressed together one or the both of them would have fallen. Shaking, sweaty, they panted each others’ air, Dean with his eyes closed, Sam watching his brother’s flushed and serene expression. 

“Damn,” Dean said after a solid two minutes of catching their breath. He straightened up and winced, undoubtedly already feeling the effects of Sam’s vigorous treatment. “I could sleep for a week.”

Sam laughed and pushed his sweaty hair off his face, his body feeling so damn good. “Check out’s at eleven.”

Dean groaned, stumbled with still rubbery legs over to the nearest bed--Sam’s--and collapsed face first into it without the slightest worry he was still sticky and naked. As Dean wormed his way up to the pillows, Sam hesitated, then crawled into bed next to him rather than overtaking Dean’s. His brother turned his head to look at him and there was a very intense look in his eyes that hadn’t been there the whole night. Then he rolled and put his back to Sam, but inched back and pulled up the covers until they were both snuggled under the inadequate comforter, his back to Sam’s chest. Relieved, Sam pushed himself forward until they were flush together and wound his arm around Dean’s waist, ignoring his huff at being treated like a girl again. Sam burrowed his face into the spiky hair, smelling sweat and sex and his brother, familiar and foreign, and wondered what the morning would bring after all.

 

******

When Sam opened his eyes, he was alone in the bed. Immediately, cold fear washed over him as he sat up, eyes roving the hotel room, searching out Dean. What stance he was in would tell Sam everything he needed to know about what was going to happen between them now.

Dean wasn’t in the room. Sam threw back the covers, standing and barely registering the dried semen on his belly or the grimy feeling of his skin from dried sweat. He crossed the room in half a dozen large strides, pulling back the curtains just enough to see if the Impala was still there.

Baby gleamed in the morning sunshine right where Dean had parked her the night before. Sam let the curtains fall and turned around, only now registering Dean’s boxers and t-shirt still crumpled on the floor with Sam’s. And it was then Sam realized he could hear the shower running. Relief was a fleeting thing, however, as now he had to face Dean. 

A cowardly part of him considered burrowing back under the covers and staying there until Dean forced him out. Instead, he squared his shoulders and marched to the bathroom, tugging open the door and stepping into the room. The tile was still cold, the mirror unfogged, so Dean had barely started the water before Sam had awoken.

Dean had excellent hearing. The plain shower curtain flipped back at the edge to show his face peeking out. Sam froze, looking at Dean warily, waiting. A long moment passed, before Dean grunted.

“Are you getting it or what, Sammy? You look disgusting.”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, Sam crossed the bathroom, pulling open the shower curtain more as Dean backed out of the way, climbing into the narrow stall. Dean squinted up at him through the swirling steam, hair wet and plastered. Sam smiled, stepping forward as Dean stepped back. The hot spray hit him full in the chest and he groaned, relieved as the clean water began washing away last night’s stickiness. He forgot Dean for a minute, blindly grabbing the small bottle of shampoo he’d seen resting on the shelf when he’d gotten in, pouring the last half of the already-opened shampoo into his hand, and quickly scrubbing his hair. 

Being six foot four was a disadvantage in some situations, namely that he had to squat to get his head in under the shower nozzle, washing the shampoo out of his hair. Straightening, he opened his eyes and looked at Dean, who was still standing with his back to the tile, the shower controls visible between his bow-legs, looking amused and annoyed and that something-more-intense Sam had seen in bed. 

Taking a chance--he was full of them it seemed--Sam reached out and grabbed Dean’s bicep, tugging him into the spray with him. Dean grunted, tipping his head back to look up at him. They stared at each other for a long minute, before Dean reached up, grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair, and pulling him down. Their mouths met, both of them moaning at the contact, and Dean’s tongue was immediately demanding entrance. Sam gave in, but only for a moment before he broke the kiss and turned his brother around before Dean knew what was happening. He wound his arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him up against him, bending down to begin marking up his neck, his free hand stealing down between Dean’s legs.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Dean moaned as Sam found him half hard. 

Sam grinned into his neck, circling his long fingers around the semi-hard cock, beginning to stroke gently. Dean moaned and Sam echoed him as his own hardening length slotted between Dean’s surprisingly round ass. 

“S-Sam…I don’t know if I can--”

Sam hushed him, merely standing there and stroking Dean, feeling him swelling in his hand. Dean’s arms stretched out and braced against the tile at the front of the shower, his head falling forward. The spray hit Sam in the chest again, warm water cascading down their skin and adding rather interesting tingles to where Sam was ensconced. 

Sam ran his hand flat up Dean’s belly to his chest. He traced around a nipple with a finger before pressing against it. Dean jerked his grip, moaning into the steamy air. Sam began to rock his hips, biting his lip as he slid back and forth in the cleft of Dean’s ass. He tightened his hand on Dean’s cock, beginning to add a twist of his wrist that made Dean swear. Sam nibbled at his ear, rocking faster, beginning to pant with the rising pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, Sam, when you breathe in my ear like that..” Dean trailed off with a surge of his hips, head tossing back and eyes squeezing shut. Sam raised his free hand up, cupping Dean’s chin and turning head so he wouldn’t drown, kissing him hungrily. He felt Dean shaking in his grip and knew he was already close. 

Sam brought his arm down to clutch Dean’s chest again, crushing him against him, stroking firmly, quickly, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Dean staggered back against him, hands slipping off the wet tile and he could only grab onto the arm around his waist with one hand, the other clamping like a vise around Sam’s other wrist. Dean was moaning steadily against his mouth now, hips working against Sam’s hand, which only caused him to grind steadily against Sam’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Sam breathed against Dean’s lips and that was the end of it for Dean.

“Ahh!” Dean’s voice echoed off the tiles, hips pumping against Sam’s fist, coming hard, instantly washed clean, sagging in Sam’s grip. 

Sam held him against him, groaning and growling as he continued to rut against his brother’s ass, marking his neck and shoulder roughly. His voice only got louder when Dean’s hand stole down between their bodies, sliding in between Sam’s legs and cupping his balls. Dean squeezed gently, thumb rubbing, Sam swore more in a few seconds than he had in a week. Dean laughed and his middle finger suddenly extended, pressing against Sam’s rim. The unfamiliar sensation slammed through Sam’s nerves like lightning and he was coming immediately. 

“Damn…” Dean muttered, leaning sideways against the shower stall as Sam slumped back against the tile behind him, hissing at the cold and not inclined to do a damn thing about it.

After a moment, with the water definitely running colder, Dean straightened up and turned around. He reached up and tucked Sam’s wet hair behind his ear. 

“Hurry up, check out’s at 11.”

Sam grinned, letting Dean precede him out of the shower, having to turn off the water since Dean didn’t. 

It was 10:49 when they entered the main part of the hotel room. Both of them cursed and scrambled to get dried off, packed, and dressed, Dean hopping on one leg and nearly overbalancing at least three times as he tried to get his boots on. Sam left him to return the key cards and check out, managing to sign them out at 10:58. The Impala was at the office’s door when he emerged and he slid into the passenger seat, watching as Dean squirmed in his seat with a grimace.

“Do you need one of those doughnut pillows?” Sam quipped.

Dean gave him a look to kill. “Do you want to get out and walk, bitch?” 

Sam only grinned. “Jerk.”

 

Fin


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second part where Dean gets "revenge" because I'm a dirty pervert.

“Sammy, on your left!”

Dean watched in relief as Sam whirled immediately with his machete, decapitating the vampire lunging for him in a single swipe. The fanged bastards had ambushed them after luring them into the house with the fake living victim ploy. The victim was a vampire herself, and had nearly gotten her fangs in Dean’s neck before Sam lifted her right off her feet, body slammed her into the ground, and took off her head with his machete two-handed like he was chopping wood as she started to get up. As Dean stared in awe at his little brother’s badassery, the flood gates opened and four other vampires came pouring out of the side rooms. Still, they were only vampires and the hunters were Winchesters and soon five decapitated bodies littered the floor. Both hunters were relatively unscathed, Dean sporting the beginnings of a black eye from the sucker punch the decoy vamp had laid on him as Sam had nearly walked into a trap of vampires in the back bedroom. 

“How’d you know?” Dean asked as they wiped their blades clean on the clothes of the vamps and started for the door. 

Sam shrugged, pulling open the front door and tromping down the porch steps. “I didn’t, I just turned around to ask a question and saw her punch you.”

“Oh. Sweet move, though.” Dean lifted his arms up and then swung them down, making a whooshing and then booming sound. “Man.”

Dimples showed as Sam smiled. 

“What were you going to ask?”

“Oh, just for you to take the second bedroom.”

They stowed their machetes in Baby’s trunk and then climbed into the front seat. Dean tried to peer at his face in the rear view mirror, but it was too dark. He could see out of his left eye, so the swelling wasn’t too bad, but she had really decked him. 

Dean started the car and headed back into town. It was only eleven, the fight ending shockingly early, and they had the rest of the night ahead. 

“Let’s get a movie,” he suddenly announced.

Sam looked surprised. “Really?”

“Dude, we were going to be up anyway. I don’t want to go back to the motel room and just watch shitty tv until three in the morning. Come on, I want to see that Taken movie. Liam Neeson.”

Sam looked himself up and down, then Dean. “We stink and I’m bleeding.”

Dean leaned forward to study the cut on his brother’s arm. Vampire punch with a massive class ring, but Sam had blocked it and got the brunt of it on his forearm rather than his jaw. The stone had cut his arm, making a gash about two inches long. It was already clotting and Dean grunted.

“You’ve had worse, Sammy. As for the smell…” Dean yanked open the glove box and tossed a handful of wet naps from various barbecue joints into Sam’s lap. Sam bitchfaced.

“Really?”

“Dude, come on, we just offed a nest of five vamps, took only one real hit each, saved this town from the things that go bump in the night. I want week old popcorn, watered down soda, and overpriced candy.”

Sam slowly smiled. “All right. Let’s go watch Liam Neeson punch people.”

Dean cheered, grabbed a couple more wet naps and hurriedly swiped one each under his armpits, shivering at the cold tingle from the chemicals, and tossed the used naps into the cup holder where he’d retrieve them later when he cleaned Baby out. As Sam more delicately cleaned his skin with the naps, Dean started the engine and headed into town.

 

******

Midway through the movie, Dean was engrossed in Liam Neeson’s exploits until he glanced over at Sam. His brother was watching the movie, slowly eating popcorn from the large tub in his lap with a mindless mechanical rhythm. Dean watched his jaw work in the dim lighting, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, watched as he lifted his large soda and wrapped his lips around the straw.

Well, fuck. 

He shifted slightly in his seat as his jeans started to get tight. Ever since that night in the motel two weeks ago, the pair of them hadn’t said boo about it. Dean had turned it over and over in his mind during the few times he’d been alone, trying to sort out his feelings about it. On the one hand, nothing really had changed. It was like what had happened in the motel had stayed in the motel, although for a few days Dean had had a constant reminder in the form of a sore backside. After a bit, he had more or less moved on from it. Sam was still his brother and they were still hunter-partners. 

And now, here he was getting hard from watching Sam suck on his straw. 

Fuck it. Dean had plenty of crazy in his life. It didn’t have to all be bad.

The theater was far from empty, but it was dark and they were on the end of their row two from the back wall, with the closest patrons four seats down on Dean’s right and two rows behind. With no one directly next to, in front of, or behind them, who would see?

Dean started by grabbing a handful of popcorn out of the tub in Sam’s lap, then resting his hand on his knee. He saw out of the corner of his eye Sam look at his hand, then back at him. Without looking back, Dean lifted his hand, grabbed another handful of popcorn, then let his hand rest on Sam’s leg an inch higher.

“Dean?” Sam whispered. 

Ignoring him, Dean took another handful of popcorn, then flat out dropped his hand onto Sam’s thigh, making him jump and nearly upset the half-empty tub of popcorn. With the armrest between Dean’s arm and side, it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but he could easily reach. 

“Dean!” Sam hissed again.

Dean ignored him again, reaching with his right hand to grab his soda and take a drink without taking his eyes off the screen. The fingers of his left hand started tracing along the seam of Sam’s jeans leg, nudging aside the popcorn tub. He was starting slow. He might have decided he was a-okay with what had happened, but Sam was being unusually quiet for Mr. Let’s Share Our Feelings, so Dean really didn’t know his mind on this. 

He felt Sam’s legs jerk, the tub of popcorn getting partially crushed, but he didn’t look at him, instead playing lightly with his straw, eyes on the screen, left hand inching up his brother’s leg. Still, he was well aware of Sam’s eyes on him and he stuck out his tongue and ran it up the part of the straw sticking out of his cup, wrapping his lips around the top and sucking down a mouthful of soda, swallowing slowly, then licked his lips for no reason. Setting the cup in the holder, he idly rubbed it with his fingers, ignoring the squeaky noise of the plastic on the tabs which wasn’t that loud. 

“Dean…” Sam tried for the third time.

Dean responded by sliding his fingers up further, right in between Sam’s thighs, tracing his fingers over the joining of the stitches across his crotch. He pressed lightly against his balls and rubbed, raising his cup with his right and flicking the tip of his tongue against the straw. As far as items to simulate oral sex with went, there were a hell of lot that were better, but you worked with what you’ve got. 

Sam’s hand came down and clamped over Dean’s, stilling his movement. Leaning forward, Sam hissed at him, “Not here!”

Dean turned his head, gave Sam an entirely false innocent look, and twitched his fingers. Sam gasped softly and squirmed. His hand tightened on Dean’s wrist.

Releasing the straw, Dean leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, right here, Sammy. Work you over, get you all hot and hard, feel you throbbing under my fingers.” Sam’s eyes slammed shut. Dean’s lips brushed his ear. “See how quiet you can be, watch you bite your lip to try and keep back the noises you make, even though I know exactly how you sound now.”

He squeezed, hearing Sam suck his breath in through his teeth and push back against his seat. The tub of popcorn nearly over spilled as Sam spread his legs on instinct and he reached out to grab it, his fingers clenching on the paper carton. Dean flicked his tongue feather light against Sam’s earlobe. 

“Good thing it’s a loud movie right now,” he breathed against Sam’s ear. “No one to hear the little whimpers you can’t keep down.”

“Don’t whimper,” Sam ground out.

Dean smiled without responding and gently scraped his teeth against the lobe, sucking on it. His fingers squeezed and kneaded, feeling how Sam’s pants were now as tight as his own. Sam’s hands were clutching the tub of popcorn and the armrest between them, his eyes open and straight ahead, though Dean doubted he saw much of the movie right now. 

Moving his fingers in a circular motion, Dean turned his head to grab his cup of soda and take another drink. Sam squirmed, jaw clenched, and Dean turned back to him, leaning over to go back to whispering in his ear.

“Felt it for days after that night,” he said. “Fuck, you’re huge, Sammy. So deep inside I couldn’t breathe.”

Sam whined softly and squeezed his eyes shut again. “Dean…”

“Want to do that to you, if you let me. Bend you right in half and feel you all hot and so tight around me.” He pinched the tab of the zipper between index and thumb, pushing it down so he could get his fingers into the gap and touch Sam's cock through his underwear. “Want to hear you groan my name, see how many different sounds I can pull out of you.”

The movie abruptly moved to a quieter scene. Dean stopped talking, turning his head toward the screen, but didn’t stop his fingers. Sam was making little clicking puffs of air through his nose, striving to be quiet. His hand suddenly moved and Dean thought he was going to stop him, but instead he picked up his drink, the ice rattling in the paper, and took a shaky swallow. 

“I can think of better ways to occupy that mouth,” Dean murmured, grinning broadly when Sam slammed the cup back into the cup holder and tossed his head back. 

He was hard, so hard and thick and long, Dean desperately wanted to see him. But he was having way too much fun to stop now, seeing Sam falling apart beside him. He slid his hand further down, grasping Sam’s sac in the cradle of his fingers and gently squeezing and tugging. Sam whined quietly, fingers white-knuckled on the tub and the armrest. Dean moved his hand up, letting the heel press back against Sam’s erection, kneading lightly up and down. Oh, yeah, Sam was throbbing.

“Are you close, Sammy?” Dean said in a voice so soft it was almost without sound. “So soon? Getting off on where we are, out in public, where anyone could come and see me with my hand down your pants…see when *you* come?”

The erection twitched beneath his fingers. Maybe not the locale, but Sam was definitely a fan of the light dirty talk. 

“Dean…please, not here,” Sam gasped, voice breaking. 

Dean gave one last squeeze and let him go. He stood, grabbing his cup, rescuing the maltreated tub of popcorn from Sam’s lap, and shuffled sideways around him before nonchalantly striding down the stairs and out of the theater. The movie didn’t hold much interest for him anymore.

He was sitting in Baby in the parking lot when Sam plopped into the seat next to him, still red-faced and flustered. Dean grinned with self-satisfaction and started the engine. Dean turned on Metallica and tore out of the parking lot, yell-singing at the top of his lungs, and roared onto the highway. As soon as he was safely merged into traffic, Dean took his right hand off the wheel and plopped it right into Sam’s lap.

“Dean!”

“Why learn a new trick when the old one is so good?” Dean asked without taking his eyes off the road. 

Sam’s fingers locked around Dean’s wrist and squeezed. “I think I’d rather you paid attention to the road and not put us into a semi.”

Dean grunted. “You’re no fun, Sammy.”

Sam glared at him out of the corner of his eye, then pulled Dean’s hand up and sucked three fingers into his mouth. Dean’s foot tromped on the accelerator and he had to jerk the wheel to avoid putting the damn car into a semi.

“Sam!”

“I warned you,” Sam said around his fingers, the vibrations running right down Dean’s arm, overriding the fact that he sounded ridiculously garbled.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped. 

Sam’s tongue ran over his fingers, dipping between to flick at the webbing. Dean’s left hand cramped on the wheel while Sam pulled his fingers out and scraped the pads with his upper teeth, then sucked them right back down into slick, wet heat. Dean looked over at him, seeing that his eyes were closed, his lips stretched as he sucked. 

A horn blasted and Dean pulled them back into their lane. Without opening his eyes, Sam pulled off enough to murmur, “Pay attention to the road.”

“Fuck,” Dean said again. He jerked the wheel, heading for the next exit. Sam licked at the tips of his fingers, kissing them softly, then sucked them in again before he let his hand go and braced against the inside of the door and the glove compartment as Dean took the turn at the bottom of the ramp at a dangerous speed. He knew his Baby and knew what she could do.

 

******

There was a little motel a mile down the road and Dean pulled up to it, then sat in the driver’s seat. Sam sat in the passenger, grinning at him.

“Well?”

“Got a flagpole in my pants, Sammy.”

Sam laughed loudly, then leaned forward and put his lips to Dean’s ear. “Thought you were going to bend me in half and make me scream your name?”

Dean jerked open his door and walked awkwardly into the office. A little latina woman who looked around a hundred and twenty six peered up at him as he came in. At least the way she squinted at him made him pretty sure she couldn’t tell he was a dude before he spoke let alone anything untoward.

“Room?”

“One king,” Dean said, because why bother with two beds anymore?

Five minutes and the beginning of blue balls later, he grabbed Sam right out of the car and dragged him up the outdoor stairs to the second floor, Sam thankfully already holding his overnight bag.

Inside the room, Dean shoved Sam hard and knocked him down on his back on the bed. Vaguely aware of the blue, orange, and tan décor, Dean toed off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket. Sam lounged on the bed, up on his elbows, long body splayed out, looking for all the word like he wasn’t in the same state Dean was. Dean yanked his shirts over his head, then lunged at him, grabbing his face between his hands and kissing him ferociously. Sam moaned into his mouth and went down as Dean pushed against him, his hands coming up to rest against Dean’s back. Warm fingers trailed over his skin and Dean groaned.

“You okay with this?” Dean panted between kisses.

“Seriously?” Sam’s sharp teeth nipped at Dean’s bottom lip. “Thought about it all the time.”

Dean groaned and then dropped down, hunching up as he yanked Sam’s shirts out of his waistband and ran his tongue over his belly. The muscles contracted and Sam shuddered. 

“Take ‘em off,” Dean ordered. 

Sam complied while Dean slid off the bed and onto his knees. He grabbed Sam’s belt and had it and the pants undone in record time. Fishing Sam out of his boxers, he took a couple of seconds to admire the heavy erection in his fist before he licked it like a popsicle.

“Fuck,” Sam rasped, probably unintentionally mimicking Dean. 

As Sam rested on his elbows again and let his head fall back, Dean ran his tongue around and around the head, dragging along the slit and making Sam’s hips jerk. He suckled the tip into his mouth and reached down to work open his own pants, needing some relief to the pressure. As Sam moaned above him, Dean wrapped his right hand around himself, letting his left take Sam’s base. 

Sucking Sam off while stroking himself had Dean’s blood boiling. He worked more into his mouth, testing his limits, moving his left hand up and down and twisting his wrist.

“Fuck, Dean. Stop, I’m not gonna last.”

Dean groaned around his mouthful and heard Sam yell. He popped off reluctantly and got to his feet, shucking his jeans and boxers before grabbing Sam’s and pulling them down his long legs. Taking just long enough to grab the little bottle of lube from Sam’s bag, Dean pounced on his brother and pushed him into the mattress. They were sideways on the bed still, legs hanging off the side, but Dean didn’t care. He rolled to rest on his hip at Sam’s side, upper body still pressing him down, legs tangled together. Dean lay the bottle on the mattress and cupped Sam’s face with his left hand, reaching with his right to run it down Sam’s torso, grinning when he jumped with a squawk when Dean pinched a nipple.

“Nngh, Dean.” 

“Yeah, Sammy. Mm, gonna make you feel so good.”

Sam laughed breathlessly. “You watch too much porn.”

Dean punished him with teeth. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

Sam’s long spine arched up as Dean’s questing fingers found his cock, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth opening. Dean watched, a spike of arousal making him rub himself against his brother’s hip, fingers stroking lightly, teasing. Sam’s hips flexed slowly against his hand, a shaky moan rumbling from his throat. Damn, but Sam’s voice was hot impassioned.

Dean needed to move this along. He got up on his elbow, then held himself with muscles only long enough to grab the lube, popping the top with his nail. 

“Can I do this?”

Sam opened his eyes, saw the lube, and nodded. His legs drew up and he planted the soles of his feet against the edge of the mattress, spreading them. Dean groaned at the display, letting go of Sam long enough to coat his fingers. He reached back down, giving Sam a couple more teasing pumps to let him feel the slick slide, then trailing the tips of his fingers down, sliding in behind his balls. Sam twitched at the touch to his perineum, then closed his eyes as Dean found his rim. A slow circling around it and Sam squirmed.

“Just do it, Dean,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“No, ‘cause you’re all tensed up. Relax, man, breathe. Been here, remember? I’ll go slow like you did for me.”

Sam opened his eyes and met his gaze. Dean smiled and Sam nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Dean rubbed gently, then eased the first fingertip inside. Sam blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Dean watched his face, slowly pushing deeper. Sam frowned slightly up at the ceiling, but it was more of a puzzled expression than pain. Dean leaned forward and peppered Sam’s jaw with kisses as he worked up to the third knuckle. 

“That feels weird,” Sam grumbled.

“Told ya that last time,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Believe me, gets a hell of a lot better.”

He slowly withdrew his finger, then eased it back inside. Sam twitched and closed his eyes. Dean lightly pumped his finger a couple of times, then prodded the rim with the tip of his middle finger. Sam spread his legs a little more and opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Dean.

“Dude, I’m not glass. Go faster.”

Dean smiled and eased the second finger in past the tight muscle. Sam grunted and shifted his hips. Dean paused, giving him time to adjust, sucking at the spot where neck met shoulder. He scissored his fingers and pulled them slowly out, stretching Sam, then closed them and pressed back in, crooking and searching.

Sam jerked his hips with a sharp gasp. Dean grinned against the skin he was worrying. He knew exactly what that felt like, how surprisingly good it felt. 

“Oh, wow,” Sam said.

Dean couldn’t help snickering. He crooked his fingers again and pressed a tiny bit harder. Sam’s hips thrust and he groaned loudly. One hand came down and squeezed around Dean’s wrist while the other dug into Dean’s short hair. Dean started thrusting his fingers, moving more forcefully now, still scissoring and relaxing them at intervals, but mostly just working them in and out. He added the third finger without warning and Sam moaned, his fingers cramping on Dean’s wrist, eyes squeezed shut. Dean’s wrist was starting to ache both from the movement and Sam’s death grip, but he didn’t complain.

“Dean…please. Now, Dean, I’m ready.”

Dean groaned and carefully removed his hand, moving to sit up on his knees. He grabbed the lube and poured a generous amount, probably more than he needed, but he was more nervous than he was letting on and not going to in the slightest leave it to chance that he’d hurt his brother.

Sam moved and shifted, pushing himself further up onto the bed. They were still sideways, but Dean didn’t care. He moved in between Sam’s spread legs and leaned over him, taking himself in hand and bumping the head lightly against Sam.

“You sure?” 

Sam gave him a dirty look. Grinning, Dean leaned forward further to briefly peck his lips, then looked down and carefully started his entrance. Sam shifted and gasped. Dean didn’t stop, releasing himself and grabbing Sam’s thighs, pushing his legs up further and sinking deeper.

“Oh, fuck,” Sam murmured as he eased past the resistance. 

“Okay?” Dean asked, aware of the breathless quality of his voice. Damn, but Sam was still tight.

“Yeah.” Sam shifted against and reached up, grabbing at Dean’s shoulders. “Come on, Dean!”

“So impatient,” Dean chastised. 

Steadily he sank into that tight heat, groaning softly and trying to keep control of himself. At long last he bumped his hips up against Sam’s and stopped, looking down. Sam’s fingers were digging painfully into his skin and he was trembling. 

“Sam?”

“Just give me a second.”

Dean held as still as a statue, except to let go of one of Sam’s thighs to reach forward and rub his belly and chest soothingly. Sam’s grip eased and he opened his eyes. Dean was aware that Sam hadn’t tried to go this deep with him the first time, but he was holding still for longer. Sam shifted again, getting comfortable, then his eyelids fluttered and he moaned softly.

“Dean, please move.”

Dean was more than happy to do so. He withdrew slowly, then returned at the same snail pace. Sam bit his lip and ran his hands along Dean’s arms. The slow rocking made pleasure spark along Dean’s nerves and he groaned, one of Sam’s legs around his hip, the other slung over his arm. He braced himself on his left hand and slowly increased his pace. 

“Sam?”

“That feels good. Dean, please, faster. I can take it, go faster.”

Dean muttered a curse and closed his eyes, shuddering as a bolt of arousal raced down his spine. He obeyed, opening his eyes again and moving his hips into actual thrusts. Sam grunted, one hand grabbing the back of Dean’s neck, the other bunching in the sheets. 

“Tell me your pleasure, Sammy,” Dean rasped, angling his hips. “Want this to be good…”

“Ahh! Right there, Dean, please!”

Dean held the angle, jerking Sam’s left leg up higher and driving into that spot. Sam’s back arched and his head rolled back against the bed. Dean groaned as he watched the pleasure wash over his brother’s face, keeping his movements quick, but relatively gentle, feeling Sam’s muscles squeezing around him. He was not going to last long. This was way too much, way too good.

“Got you bent in half just like I wanted," Dean growled. "All spread out under me, moaning for me."

"Dean..." Sam's teeth caught on his bottom lip and his hips jerked against Dean.

"So tight, you're so fucking tight. And hot. Burning me up."

Sam leaned up on his elbow and kissed Dean hard on the mouth, showing just how freaky flexible he could be. His tongue pushed inside, his movements clumsy with distraction. Dean thought he was trying to shut him up. The hand on the back of his neck was squeezing. Dean stroked his tongue with his own, then thrust his hips the hardest yet. Sam's head fell back with a groan and he suddenly slumped back onto the bed.

"Sssam… Touch yourself, wanna see it.”

Sam moaned, head lolling. The hand on the back of Dean’s neck reached down and wrapped around his erection, beginning to stroke. Dean watched, holding himself back, determined to get Sam there first.

“Dean…Dean...”

Dean turned his head and kissed Sam’s knee, breathing hard against the skin, feeling the familiar twinges of orgasm prickling in his balls. He increased his pace, watching from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s head tossed, mouth agape as he panted. Fuck, but those noises…

“Oh, damn, you're gonna make me come. You’re so fucking hot, Sammy.”

Sam whined, his body tensing. His hand ran along his erection, seeming rather absentmindedly, and his eyes opened, focusing on Dean. Dean grinned at him, stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. Sam’s eyes slammed shut again and he suddenly came, shaking under Dean, a loud cry echoing in the gaudy room. Watching Sam spill across his belly, feeling his muscles cramping down on his cock, Dean didn’t stand a chance. He came a heartbeat later, groaning and dropping his head, hips jerking erratically. Pleasure washed through his body and made him dizzy. 

“Dean…” Sam’s arms and legs came around his brother, pulling Dean down on him, his muscles jumping under his skin. Dean moaned, breathlessly kissing Sam’s neck, his chin, his mouth. Sam squeezed him tight, still shuddering, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder.

Dean ran his hand up Sam’s ribs soothingly, nuzzling his nose into Sam’s sweaty hair and kissing his temple. Aftershocks trembled through Sam, making him whimper, and Dean gentled him, easing himself out and arranging himself more comfortably as Sam didn’t seem to want to let go. 

Slowly Sam’s limbs relaxed and Dean moved half off of him, settling on his hip at Sam’s side, reaching up with his hand to cup the back of Sam’s head and kiss him warmly. Sam’s eyes opened and he looked up at Dean, eyes slitted and dark and dazed. 

“Damn,” he said softly. “That was intense.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sam’s hand bopped the back of Dean’s head. “Don’t ruin the mood, jerk.” 

Dean chuckled and rested his head against Sam’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. He felt so fucking good that he was asleep in five minutes, pressed against Sam’s sweat-slick skin with their legs tangled up together. 

******

Dean opened his eyes and stretched languorously, yawning. It wasn’t until he realized he hadn’t hit flesh that he saw he was alone in bed. He sat up on his elbow and was greeted with the sight of Sam, still buck naked, sipping coffee and peeking through the closed curtains to the world outside.

“Now that’s a sight to wake up to.”

Sam looked over his shoulder with a grin. He came over to the bed, Dean not missing the rather gingerly way he settled down. Reaching out, Dean caught the hand holding the styrofoam cup and pulled it to him, taking a drink of the awful, but hot, coffee.

“Get your own,” Sam complained. 

Dean grinned around the edge of the cup. Sam bitchfaced as Dean took another pointed swallow. 

“What’s yours is mine, bitch,” Dean said. “If your ass is mine, your coffee’s mine.”

“That’s real nice, jerk.”

Dean climbed out of bed, quickly giving Sam’s ass a swat as he stood up as well, just to make him squawk indignantly. 

“Let’s get a shower.”

Sam smiled and set the bitter coffee down on the nightstand. They headed in to the bathroom to get washed up for another day, Dean looking forward to a hot shower, and if the bathroom soon echoed with Sam’s moans, all the better.


End file.
